


This War is Crazy (i won't let you down)

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Adultery, Barebacking, Cheating, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk (minor), F/M, Oral Sex, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Cooper had a fight; Alice seeks solace in a familiar place.





	This War is Crazy (i won't let you down)

**Author's Note:**

> this is just self-indulgent porn tied in with a personal headcanon of mine. y'all _know_ that hal and alice had plenty of fights and nine times outta ten y'all know alice went to fp for some angry revenge sex. i have so many feelings about these two, it's honestly absurd. 
> 
> hope you guys enjoy!

She storms out of the house and slams the screen door so hard behind her it nearly topples off its hinges. Hal doesn’t even try to stop her, doesn’t call out to her or chase her down the porch steps.

In a way, she’s glad. Glad that she’s free to leave, have a moment of breathing room, be on her own for at least a little while. Glad that someone is inside the house with Polly, and as mad as she is at Hal she knows he’ll keep their baby girl safe.

A smaller part of her is indignant, offended that he can’t be assed to come for her. She knows it’s partly because he wants to watch Polly, but she knows it’s more that Hal is banking on Alice coming back. Because Alice always comes back; be it the next morning or even just a few minutes later. She always comes back and always leaves again. And again, and again.

Alice pauses once she slips into her car. She holds her keys in one hand and curls the other around the steering wheel as though to ground herself.

When she looks up at the kitchen window and sees no one looking back, she puts the keys into ignition.

 

 

The bar is bustling and busy when she walks in. She draws only a few scattered stares—people from her past and some from her present, people who think they know her and her story. She ignores them all in favor of making a beeline for the counter, which is blessedly uncrowded. She weaves between a few stragglers here and there until she can lay her hands on the sticky wooden top.

“Whiskey, on the rocks,” she mutters without bothering to catch the bartender’s eye. It’s loud, but the bartender is far from busy, and she knows he’s heard her.

“Rough night, Alice?”

She looks up, finally, to find none other than FP Jones staring back.

“Screw you.” She snatches the glass from his hand all the same and tosses it back quick. She sets it down with more force than necessary, gratified when FP immediately starts on a refill. She sips that one a little slower, and keeps her eyes locked with FP all the while.

“Wanna talk about it?” FP asks, low. He tops off her half-finished round before stepping back. He tends to a few other customers before returning. “Basically my job to be an open-ear.” He adds the word with an odd mix of honesty and apathy in his tone.

Alice stares at the amber liquid distorted by ice cubes. “Not really.”

FP nods. He doesn’t press or push—never has, never will—but he doesn’t walk away, either. A different person winds up behind the bar with him, clearly sent to pick up FP’s slack.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” She snaps while gesturing at the other lackey hurrying around.

FP shrugs. “S’my bar, I can do as I damn well please.” As if to prove his point he turns and fixes himself a drink, an easy couple fingers of scotch.

Alice doesn’t let the surprise show on her face, but FP catches on anyway.

“Yeah, finally amounted to something, didn’t I? Not much, but something.”

Rather than replying, Alice busies herself with taking a long, heavy sip.

“Wanna come up? Got an office, my own stash, less people.” FP jerks his head toward the upstairs.

Alice looks up while she drinks.

FP smirks like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. He probably does, and she doesn’t hate it as much as she used to.

She knocks back what’s left and pushes her glass away. With a broad gesture, she announces, “well? Lead the way.”

FP still takes the stairs two at a time and Alice swallows her flashbacks to their younger years. She trails behind him at a slower pace, a normal pace; by the time she makes it to the top he’s still fumbling with the keys to get his office unlocked.  

“Need a hand?” She taunts as she steps up close behind him. She can’t resist laying a hand on his shoulder or leaning into the murmur the words near his ear.

He doesn’t falter, though. Far from it: his hand steadies, and the key slides into the lock, and he looks over his shoulder to flash a grin at Alice. “From you? Always, Alice.” The booze on his breath sticks to her lips and before she can lean in, close the distance, he’s stepping into his office.

She follows.

 

He shuts the door behind them and even locks it, which feels presumptuous but a touch gentlemanly as well. She doesn’t tell him so, on either count. That look he keeps giving her, like he still knows the way her mind is wired, like they’re still two punks on a playground scheming together. She wants to tell him he’s wrong, that they aren’t those two kids anymore.

She can’t find the words so she storms up to FP and kisses him instead. She takes him by the collar of his stupid, well-worn flannel and kisses him with a decade’s worth of longing. He responds in kind, just as eager, familiar as much as he’s changed. His lips taste the same but his hands, as they skirt under her blouse, are more calloused than she remembers.

Alice draws her hands to the front of his shirt and makes quick work of the buttons. Once the shirt is undone, FP obediently shrugs it off and tosses it aside. Under his breath, he mutters “your turn,” and returns the favor of unbuttoning her sweater. He doesn’t stop there, barreling on to the white blouse underneath and pulling at it so roughly Alice wants to chide him.

“Careful,” she hisses, going so far as to take a step back, outside his bubble.

FP snorts quietly but raises his hand in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.” He mirrors her footsteps until her knees hit the couch and she stumbles. “Go ahead, make yourself comfortable.” His words are teasing but hit her like a strong gust of wind.

She topples back as gracefully as she can and in an instant FP is in front of her, on his knees, his hands sneaking between Alice’s thighs.

“You’ve never been one to waste time, FP,” she remarks as her hands tangle in his hair.

His smirk, framed by stubble, rasps across the delicate skin of her knees and her inner thighs as he moves closer. He doesn’t have a snarky comeback, except to start peppering lovebites along her skin. As he inches toward her heat, Alice spreads her legs wider, until her skirt is hiked up to her waist and her legs are thrown over FP’s shoulders.

He takes a single awkward moment to drag her panties down and off, letting them hang on one of her ankles. It’s undignified and obnoxious—but then, so is his head between her legs. So is everything about FP Jones.

He licks her suddenly, a single long stripe between her folds and up to her clit. The slick heat is startling, _good_ , and her hips buck to get closer. She tangles one hand tighter in his hair and braces the other on the dingy couch cushion. FP wastes no time in pushing her toward the cusp of orgasm; he takes to eating her out like it’s an old-time tradition. He remembers all her buttons to press to drive her wild like it hasn’t been ten years since he last had a chance at them.

Alice pulls her skirt back more to watch and she lets out a shaky moan when he looks up at her. He winks at the same time he sucks on her clit; when she tugs at his hair as a warning, he moans against her body.

“Fuck,” she growls as her legs quiver. “C’mon,” she urges, “stop teasing.”

FP pulls back long enough to lick his lips and murmur, “whatever you want.” He returns with a fervor and finally slips a hand between her thighs. Tongue on her clit in unrepentant pressure, FP pushes two fingers into Alice’s cunt and crooks them upward.

“Ah!” She cries out and draws her legs together, locking FP in. “Fucker,” she snaps breathlessly.

FP doesn’t reply except to thrust his fingers and crook them up on every push forward. He laps at her clit rhythmically, incessantly, throwing in a pleased hum ever few moments just to wring another swear from her lips.

Alice finally breaks from his gaze and throws her head back. She can feel the slickness growing, can’t help but wonder if she’s dripping onto the couch. Her chest is heaving and her bra feels too tight across her chest.

“FP, _FP_ ,” she pulls at his hair until he looks at her again. “I don’t have all day, you should fuck me already.”

FP sits back on his haunches but his fingers never leave her body. He stops thrusting but keeps rubbing against her g-spot. He does it slow, lazy, like an afterthought to his words.

“Let me taste you, Alice, huh? It’s been so long.” His exhale is dramatic and dreamy and his hot breathing fans across her oversensitive groin.

Alice keens, almost angrily. She digs her nails into his scalp and hauls him closer. “Fine, yes, _fine_ , do it.”

All too happy, FP returns his mouth to her mound and moves his fingers faster. His free hand, the one still cupping Alice’s thigh, grips tight enough to bruise. The bite of his bitten-down nails sends shocks through her system alongside the pleasure.

“Close?” FP barely pulls back to breathe, but manages to sneak the word out loud enough for Alice to hear.

She nods while rolling her hips against his fingers. They’re thick inside her, rough and she thinks of how those calloused fingertips felt across her hips. “Shit, shit,” she gasps, rapid and desperate the closer she gets to coming.

“C’mon, Alice, come for me. Let go of all that tension.” FP turns and bites the inside of her thigh and the pain-pleasure twisting together tips Alice over the edge. He sucks at the skin as she rides his fingers through her orgasm, and when he pulls away he leaves a bright red mark in his wake.

Alice shudders when he breezes his teeth over the lovebite a last time before withdrawing his fingers. Again, he sits back on his haunches, then brings his two fingers to his lips.

She watches him suck his own digits clean and tries to catch her breath. That stupid smirk, the gleam in his eyes, everything about him radiating a past she’s been trying to leave behind for years.

She still reaches for him again. He almost seems surprised by it, but he lets her guide him onto the couch. FP stays stock still as Alice’s hands wind their way down his body to his belt.

“Getting cold feet?” She asks as she tosses his belt aside and rests her hands on the button and zipper.

FP shakes his head. “Nah, just can’t believe—nothing, s’nothing, just keep going.”

Alice doesn’t call him on his hesitation, because she knows what he wants to say. She doesn’t bother teasing as she unbuttons his jeans, pulls the zipper down. She doesn’t bother with preamble as she reaches into his gray boxer-briefs and grips his cock.

“Y’wanna ride me?” He asks, strangled. “Was always your favorite way, wasn’t it?”

Alice looks up at his face, drawn tight with pleasure and struggling to concentrate on speaking at the same time. She smirks and even laughs under her breath. “You say that like it wasn’t your favorite, too.” Her hand slips from his underwear and she shoves at his chest until he tumbles onto the cushion next to her. “Get them off.”

FP shoves his briefs and jeans down far enough to expose his dick; he even gestures to his lap with a cheeky grin.

“You’re a pervert,” Alice announces even as she climbs into his lap.

“And yet, here we are.” FP takes his cock by the base as Alice slides down with practiced ease. She’s wet and loose, despite the blur of her thoughts she does feel relaxed, more than she has since her daughter was born. She takes FP inch by inch until he has to move his hand to her hip instead, so she can take him in to the hilt.

Looking down at FP, Alice remembers why this is her favorite position. The way his chest heaves, his nails dig into her sides, his hips jumping like he can’t bear to contain himself. She braces her hands on his shoulders and starts to move.

Each time she sits up, FP’s hips follow, as though chasing her heat and he makes harsh, broken sounds of pleasure. Each time she sinks down, she clenches around him and he throws his head back hard enough to hurt—or so she assumes, given the way his head smacks against the back of the couch.

“Is that all you got?” She taunts. “Do I have to do all the work?”

The words are barely out of her mouth before his grip tightens. His palms press against the jut of her hip bones, still covered in a layer of baby weight, and he pulls her down to meet his thrusts.

“This what you want, princess?” FP’s expression is still tight, but his lips are set in a determined sneer. He thrusts up faster and harder, dragging Alice by the hips to meet him every time, until the couch is groaning under their weight.

“Fuck you,” she snaps even as she pushes closer, swallows a moan. She has something else pithy and sharp to say, but it flickers out like a snuffed flame when he starts to mouth along her collarbone. He nips along her skin, leaving nothing but marks that are all too quick to fade.

“Help me out here,” FP grumbles as he reaches for the hooks of her bra. “You know I’m shit with these things.”

Alice can’t help it—she laughs, a quick burst. She shakes her head but lets go of his shoulders to reach behind her instead. “If I didn’t know you so well, I’d think you were _pretending_ to be so inept.” She unhooks her bra easily, and she drinks in the familiar look of awe on FP’s face as the soft cream lace slips from her body.

She drops her bra to the side uncaringly, then hurries to hold FP by the shoulders for support when he surges forward unexpectedly. Hungrily, eagerly, desperately he starts to kiss along the curve of her breasts. Wet, open-mouthed kisses interspersed with gentle nips that he soothes with his tongue. He teases her nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking the pert skin into his mouth and groaning.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” She means to be scathing, but it only comes out fond. FP doesn’t comment on her tone—too busy moving his mouth to her other breast—so Alice doesn’t either. Instead she puts words aside and clings to him, rides the waves of his body as he murmurs and groans against her skin.

“Not gonna last, Alice,” he speaks as he draws his lips up across her neck. He bites, not hard enough to bruise, then laves over the light marks with his tongue. “You close again? Can I get a second one outta ya?” FP tucks his face against the crook of her neck and shoulders. His soft laugh sends goosebumps in waves across her body.

“FP.” She tries to make it a warning, or a command, but manages neither.

Hips slowing, FP tilts his head up. “Remember that one time, start of senior year? I got you off… how many times?” He kisses just below her ear deceptively gentle. “Eight? Nine?”

“It was eleven, you fuckin’ pervert, and you know it.” Even with the edge in her tone Alice can’t help but recall that night (and most of the following day) with a moan.

“If you’d give me the time, I’d be happy to have a repeat performance.” Soft and gentle he dances his fingertips along her stomach until he can dip them low enough to brush her clit again. “You get so wet for me, princess, don’t you?”

He pushes his thumb against her clit, just this side of too dry.

“You’re an ass.” Alice falls forward anyway. Her orgasm crests slower this time, to the beat of FP’s thumb rubbing against her clit and his measured thrusts inside her. It comes on like wave, rising high and slow before crashing against the shore as she cries out. “Fuck!” She presses her face against FP’s and breathes; she whimpers softly as aftershocks tremble through her and pants against FP’s warm, rough cheek.

“God damn, Alice,” FP groans as his hips stutter. There’s far too many things left unsaid in his three words but Alice doesn’t focus on them, can’t bring herself to. She closes her eyes and focuses on the feeling of his cock pulsing, his come inside her, his hands on her body. Slowly, the tension in his body dissipates as his own orgasm fades, faster than Alice’s. Instead of gripping her tight, FP’s hands loosen and lay palm-flat against her clammy skin. “God damn,” he mutters again.

Alice sits back after they both catch their breath. FP is mostly soft and slipping out of her, and she’s painfully aware of their come dripping onto the couch. She opens her mouth but FP shrugs.

“Happy to help,” he tells her. He reaches up and cups her cheek, even draws his thumb across her lower lip. “You know where to find me.” FP shrugs again. The gesture looks easy on him, but Alice doesn’t miss the sour turn of his lips, even though it’s gone just as fast as it came.

She nods and starts to stand. She doesn’t object when FP helps her with guiding hands on her hips. She steps into the other leg of her panties and lets FP pull them up her body. Once they’re in place, steadily getting stained by the come leaking sluggishly out of her, she smooths her skirt down.

By the time she’s put-together enough to leave, FP has deigned only to tuck his half-hard cock away in his underwear. His jeans are still undone and bunches around his thighs.

Alice raises an eyebrow at him, and FP laughs.

“I don’t gotta be anywhere, I can take my sweet time.” In spite of his words he tugs his pants back up and stands. Alice has to take a step back so they don’t collide, but even then they’re far too close. “Good seeing you, princess.”

Alice swallows. Out the corner of her eye she catches the glint of FP’s personal alcohol stash, and belatedly Alice realizes she’s not nearly as drunk as she intended to be. She’s not even buzzed, hasn’t been for who knows how long. She had felt the start of it as they came up the stairs but it didn’t last long after.

FP cups her cheek again and leans down to kiss her. It’s nothing like earlier, when she yanked him in for a biting and hungry kiss. This is soft, bittersweet, like every time he’s kissed her goodbye before.

“You know where to find me,” he says again.

Alice nods, turns on her heel, and leaves.

 

 

Hal is asleep by the time she slips back into the house at the wee hours of the morning. He doesn’t stir when she steps into the bedroom. He doesn’t wake when she takes a quick shower or even when she slides into bed in fresh pajamas. Alice lays on her side and stares at her sleeping husband, and wonders when things will get bad enough she’ll decide to see FP again.

She’s sure it’ll be sooner than she thinks.


End file.
